Month: November 2023
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Confluence of the Balder and Tees
I am halfway up a hill they call the ‘Hagg,’ taking in the view of the Balder joining forces with the mighty Tees, both rivers uncomfortably full to the brim. Behind me stands Cotherstone Castle — now nothing more than a glorified mound. Used to be the abode of the Fitz Hughs, and once dubbed…
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Furlongs and Furrows: A Stroll Across a Medieval Agricultural Landscape
Many times, I’ve crossed this grassy field, marching along the even undulations as if it were a colossal green corrugated roof. Rig and furrow, these ancient earthworks, show their best under the slanting rays of the low sun or when the last patches of snow yield to a thaw. Even the fall of autumn leaves…
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Storm Babet’s Legacy: The disappointing remains of the Esk
One of my particular aversions is walking, or running, along a beach, a seemingly endless repetition, a far-off point on the horizon never drawing closer. Yet, it was deemed worthwhile to undertake this stomp in order to see the substantial remains of a wooden sailing vessel cast ashore in the aftermath of Storm Babet. The…
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Wind, Rain, and the ever-changing Bridestones
The geological makeup of the North York Moors primarily comprises strata of sedimentary rock, deposited beneath the waters during the Jurassic Age. As the Jurassic sea level rose and fell, rocks of various densities were left. Over time, wind and rain tirelessly eroded away at these rocks, reshaping the landscape. Here at the Bridestones, the…
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The Ghost of Stokesley Town End
Yet another tale spun by the industrious quill of Cleveland’s venerable chronicler, Richard Blakeborough. This piece has lingered on my to-do list, biding its time for a fitting photograph. Regrettably, my patience has waned. Let this image of Aireyholme and Cliff Rigg suffice. Look closely, and the roof tops of Stokesley reveal themselves in the…
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From Spider Bites to Scorpion Stings: DEFRA’s Leadership Labyrinth
On a rather dreich stroll across Urra Moor, the swirling clouds over Bilsdale managed to inject a bit of interest into an otherwise lacklustre affair. Now, I had it in my notes to have a whinge about Thérèse Coffey’s decimation of the 2010 consensus concerning the future of our public paths. Today seems an opportune…
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Toad-under-a-harrow
At first, it’s all dreary drizzle, the kind that makes you question your decision to leave the comfort of indoors. But wait an hour, and the heavens part ways, allowing the sun to cast its golden glow upon Roseberry, turning it into a vision against the still brooding rain clouds. A rainbow always spruces up…
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Remembrance Sunday on Easby Moor
On Remembrance Sunday, a brisk stomp picking up the memorial on Easby Moor for the solemn service by the Cleveland Mountain Rescue Team has become an unspoken tradition. A simple plaque there pays tribute to the unfortunate crew aboard a Hudson airplane, their three lives ending on a bitter February morning in 1940. They had…
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Midnight Corner
Today’s post comes swift and direct, plucked from the heights of the Ingleby Incline, that rapid ascent from the Cleveland plain to the moor’s crest in just over a mile. Unveiled in 1861 and closed in 1929, this line’s purpose was to transport Rosedale Ironstone to the steel mills of Ferryhill in County Durham. Down…
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Hutton Rudby and its history of cockfighting
Hutton Rudby must be one of the prettiest villages in Cleveland, particularly when adorned in the splendid hues of autumn. However, beneath this picturesque facade lurks a shadowy past. Despite the outright ban on cockfighting in England with the Cruelty to Animals Act of 1835, the so-called ‘sport’ persisted well beyond the legal decree against…